


Stagnancy

by sodapopmermaid



Series: Disaffiliation and Reconnection [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 11:16:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21035357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodapopmermaid/pseuds/sodapopmermaid
Summary: There can be security in abuse. A false sense of safety, thinking that you know what's coming. If you don't leave, things can't change, and they can't get worse.You were never good at knowing what you wanted, anyway.





	Stagnancy

**Author's Note:**

> This is very vague and written mostly in the middle of the night, so there's not much substance to it, but there are mentions of what happened the night of Blumentrio's graduation, etc. Take care of yourselves!
> 
> Also, this is not edited. At all. Just for funsies.

Astrid feels heavy as she walks in. Graduation is meant to be celebratory, she recognizes. They were going to celebrate together. Quietly, on their own, with some beer and sweets. Acknowledging their disappointing lineage, soaking in the pride.

Somewhere downstairs is an unmade cake.

Wasted potential.

Wulf doesn’t exactly bump into her, but she can sense when he stalls behind her in the doorway. She moves aside to let him through, only half paying attention. He grabs her arm and pulls her back.

Wordlessly, he begins undoing all her buttons and belts and bags. Her mind’s been in a haze for a while now, and she distantly registers some level of irritation at her uselessness. Wulf’s never minded that sort of thing, being far too soft, but he’s all mechanical now. If she didn’t know better, she would think it’s anger.

An ache gathers behind her eyes. She knows better. She knows.

They don’t end up in bed. They’re both exhausted, but Eodwulf begins tugging sheets and pillows and quilts and piling them in the opposite corner, under and around the desk.

“Empty bed.” He says, to a question she doesn’t ask. She appreciates it anyway. Soft.

When they finally curl up against each other, it’s more awkward than it’s been in years. She feels it, distantly, but she doesn’t know how to fix that on her best days. Wulf is the one that swoops in and clears the cobwebs, creates the bridges. He’s only silent now.

She takes his head in her hands, brushes her thumbs against his cheekbones. “We should leave.”

He stares. Even with her mind away, she can list the little ticks and movements that list his thoughts. Familiar micro expressions in a face she’s been watching since she left home: disbelief, suspicion, sympathy. Grief. That’s newer. She tucks it away for reference without thinking about it.

It takes him a while to answer. She lets him sit idle, pressing fingerprints into her stomach when his thoughts upset him.

“One more day.” It’s hoarse, quiet. “See how they react to it all, see if there’s anything we can do to... to bring him back. Set up a plan. He’s better than one mistake.”

Astrid hesitates, then nods and lets herself sink more fully into the nest and Wulf. “One more day.”

* * *

“We could try it. Move tomorrow, get some distance. It’s not a great apartment, but it comes straight out of our pay.” Wulf is trying desperately to regain some sense of order, of understanding. Working, constantly, to fix what’s wrong with them.

She isn’t sure it’s possible, but if he didn’t try, he wouldn’t be Wulf. “Where?”

He points it out on their map of the city, shows her the little bakery nearby. He won’t move forward without her. He needs to move forward. He’s practically itching with it.

“One month trial,” She proposes, glaring as if challenging him. She knows it isn’t necessary. Old habits. “It’ll be easier to leave from a new location anyway. We won’t have to unpack.”

Wulf leans over and kisses her forehead. It’s just to see her flustered, she knows, and it only makes her pinker.

“One month.” He agrees.

* * *

“One more day with me?” The whisper is reminiscent of something, and she shivers.

“Aren’t we supposed to be going back to work tomorrow?” She teases. Honeymoon, indeed. Wulf peppers kisses across her wrists, trying to look more inviting in the bed. It’s working, but she’s always been more stubborn than him.

Maybe she doesn’t need to be so stubborn, though. She’s committed now. _They’re_ committed. She can’t just have one foot out the door all the time.

They’ve been been committed for a while, she supposes.

“One more day.” She whispers back, and the smug grin she gets back makes her laugh.

One more. One more. One more.

* * *

Astrid holds a file in her hands. There are old school assignments, essays, diagrams, arcane symbols. An address to an asylum. A scrap of fabric and a page from a spellbook. A letter looking for /her/. Something twists in her stomach, cycling through grief and guilt and anger. She settles on resignation.

“Okay,” She whispers. The dust dances from the force of her breath. “Okay. Okay. No more.”


End file.
